


Potter, Innit?

by 3bananaforeuro



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Minecraft (Video Game), Sleepy Bois Inc., Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Crack, Gen, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Sleepy Bois Inc. (Video Blogging RPF) - Freeform, WIP, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:27:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29724846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3bananaforeuro/pseuds/3bananaforeuro
Summary: This is one chapter of an idea I came up with at three AM last night-Sleepy bois and co in the Harry Potter Universe.This is Tommy's first chapter, un-edited and definitely un-beta'd. I won't release anymore until I have the rest of this idea outlined and a bit written, I just want feedback on this.The real fic will be plot centric, from POV's of Tommy, Ranboo, and Tubbo. Meant to be comedic, very little angst. But will be long, like, 100k words.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 31





	Potter, Innit?

Tommy was tired of this whole being Hermione Granger thing.  
The first day had been awesome! He had fucking magic, after all. He thought he was just having a weird dream, so he took full advantage of it. He tried out levitating, blowing things up, even avada kedavra-ing a frog. None of them really worked (thankfully for the frog), but he did manage to float a pen around for a little bit. Still cooler than nothing. He also managed to cut his hair-Hermione's hair was bushy and annoying, so he thought about his own hair. And just like that, about a foot of hair disappeared. He-Hermione's body, that is-looked shockingly like him when her hair was cut. She was short though, and, well, 11. Tommy didn’t particularly like the feeling of being in a body younger and smaller than him, and especially one that had, well, boobs. So he went to sleep, ready to go back to his own life.  
But the issue was, he woke up. And he was still Hermione Granger. The second day was stressful. Partially because he had to come to terms with the fact that he was stuck here, for at least a little while, although he tried to avoid thinking about it. The real stress was his-Hermone’s-parents. Because, well, he had been a bit reckless yesterday. And now their daughter's hair was suddenly a foot shorter than it had been yesterday. Oops. So he decided to do something even stupider than cutting his hair-telling them why. No, he wouldn’t tell them that their daughter had been a main character of a famous book series from the future, and that he, a 16 year old famous on a platform that didn’t exist yet, had switched places with her. But in his panic he did stutter out a bit of the truth-that he cut it, because he was a boy and didn’t like looking like a girl. He accidentally came out as transgender. In 1991. Oops.  
But it went shockingly well, them simply sending him to her room, spending the rest of the day having hushed conversations. No yelling, no getting hit. He supposed Hermione's activism streak and open mind had to have come from somewhere.  
He spent the rest of the day poking around Hermione’s room, trying to come to terms with the fact that he was a book character. A book character that happened to be a huge nerd, which her room clearly reminded him of. Bare white walls. A tidy desk, with notebooks and school papers filed chronologically and alphabetically. Above it, a small bulletin board, which displayed some family pictures and ribbons from academic achievement. Opposite the bed was her wardrobe, with her school uniform neatly hung and ironed, even in the middle of summer. The clear centerpiece of the room was her bookshelf-packed to the brim. Textbooks, Novels, instruction manuals, biographies, books of every shape and size crowded the shelves. Some worn and tattered, some in mint condition-even one at the very front of the shelf, bent open as if Hermione had been in the middle of reading it before Tommy hijacked her body. And no, Tommy wasn’t a nerd, he was a big man, thank you very much. But he liked the bookshelf. He liked the cozy bean bag beside it, and the classics that he had read in school had caught his eye. No, he wasn’t a nerd, but he had gotten an A level in English. So if he spent his second day as Hermione Granger reading, that was his business.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

But now it was day 31 of being Hermione Granger, and Tommy was bored. The bookshelf had satisfied him for a few days. Then, it was talking to his parents, exploring the neighborhood. They called him Tommy around the house and bought him some boys clothes; You could tell they hoped it was just a phase as they avoided the topic of what would happen at school in September. He was fine with that. He knew he would be going to Hogwarts in September, anyway. Which was his next thing to keep him occupied-rewriting the books. Not for commercial purposes, but making a relative timeline of all the plot-points he could remember. Trying to figure out when, and how, he could return. And how he could speed it up, if at all preferable. He figured that he appeared in this world around the time when the books start-which, if his memory serves him correctly, was Dudley’s birthday. That meant this was based on the book format, on Harry’s ark, so he could, hopefully, get out when the book ended. Which he wanted to speed up, preferably. He didn’t really want to spend a year without PvP or Editing practice.  
So his first thought was getting to Harry-getting him to realize about Quirrel and the Stone as quickly as possible, so this would all be over. This is when he started getting frustrated. He’s not confident in his knowledge of Harry’s address; but even if he was, how would he drive there. He can’t contact him, as neither him nor Harry have a computer. Even if he did, could computers these days even send messages? Was Java even being developed yet? Philza Minecraft was only, like, 6. He finally came to the conclusion that he would have to wait until he got to Hogwarts to do anything, which meant he genuinely had nothing to do. It felt bizarre, not having anything to edit, or record, no way to be productive. Tommy almost turned to songwriting like Wilbur, out of sheer boredom. But he remembered the one thing about being Hermione Granger that didn’t suck-he was a wizard. He could like, fly and shit! Or at least, he hoped. He threw all his might into practicing magic, spending maybe 8 hours or more a day. After all, TommyInnit is married to the grind.  
His next issue was, well, memory. He hadn’t exactly been an avid Harry Potter fan before. He only remembered a few spells-Avada Kedavra, Expelliarmus, Lux, Accio, and, of course, Wingardium Leviosa. That left him with only two he could actually work on, since he didn’t have a wand and didn’t particularly feel like killing small animals. Accio and Wingardium Leviosa may have been hard, but with the amount of practice he was putting in he mastered them quickly. So he bought a Latin book.  
Again, he wasn’t a nerd, okay? He just needed it, since he couldn’t buy spellbooks yet. He needed to learn as much as fast as possible, so he could advance the plot. So he could get home. Not because he found it interesting.  
Tommy/Hermione’s parents hadn’t even questioned it. It seemed going to the bookstore was a regular occurrence in their family, and they seemed too happy that their daughter was spending time outside to question what she was doing. Further evidence of how reclusive Hermione must be.  
And that was how you would find him early Tuesday afternoon-chanting conjugations of the verb “calefacere”, hoping to catch his hand on fire. Magic was hard. Just as he was gathering his energy for one last attempt, he was interrupted.  
“Ding-dong!” exclaimed the front door.  
“Shit!” exclaimed Tommy, as he almost burned off his eyebrows.  
“Coming!” he shouted, as he sprinted downstairs, hoping the damage to his face wasn’t too obvious. He swung open the door, expecting the postman, or if he was lucky, an owl.  
“Mcgonagall!” he shouted, like an idiot.  
“Excuse me?”  
Fuck. Right. Tommy was not supposed to know her. Oops. Good thing he was a quick thinker.  
“Oh! Sorry, I thought you were my Mcdonald’s delivery. Like, the fast food. McDonalds.” He said, trying to force as much sincerity into his voice as possible. And praying that McDonalds had been invented by 1991.  
“Right.” The witch said, narrowing her eyes with suspicion. “Are your parents home?”  
“Nope! They’ll be home in half an hour, though. Would you like to wait inside?” Tommy said, before realizing how naive that made him look. Ah well. The dumber he seemed, the less suspicious he was. Mcgonagall appeared genuinely baffled, so he decided to play the idiotic-child bit even harder. Without waiting for her answer, he swung the door open, chattering about Mcdonald’s, getting halfway to the kitchen before the witch collected her wits together.  
“And THAT’s why I always order the 2-for-5 combo, you get double the fries for half the price of a drink, it’s ludacris really, an absolute bargain and-”  
“Miss Granger” she said forcefully, shaking her head to clear it like an etch-a-sketch. “Is Miss Granger home?”  
“You’re looking right at him! Tommy Granger, at your service.” offering his hand out to shake with a charming grin, before adding “I had a sex change.”  
Mcgonagall looked like her head was buffering.  
“You know, I used to be a girl. And now I’m a boy, at least partially. Not legally, yet. But I wear boys clothes, and Mom calls me her son, so-”  
“Enough!” Mcgonagall rested her head in her hands. She took a deep sigh. “Please, stop talking.”  
Mission success. Tommy actually obeyed, starting a cup of tea while the witch composed herself.  
“Hermio-Tommy, I come from the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I’m here to deliver your letter.”  
He scanned the paper, feigning interest. He tossed it on the table, remarking:  
“Cool! I didn’t even apply to that one. I’ll talk to dad about it, he wanted me to go to the best school possible, because I’m the top of my class, you know. We have 5 acceptance letters already!” He sang, cheerfully.  
McGonagall was going to kill him.  
She ground her teeth together. She took a sip of tea. After a long silence, she let out a deep sigh. And then another. She opened her eyes again.  
“Tommy. Listen. You are a wizard. This is a school of magic. You can do magic. I am going to explain that to your parents, and then you will go to Hogwarts. And learn magic.” She forced out through gritted teeth.  
And Tommy, opposed to popular belief, did have a shred of decency in him. He resisted the urge to tell her how magic wasn’t actually real, that it was just science we didn’t know yet, so yes, he would be honored to go to a school of science. He knew it would be wise to preserve some shred of canon.  
“What do you mean?” He feigned surprise. She looked like this was more in her comfort zone.  
“Tommy, have you ever had anything weird happen around you? Anything you can’t explain? Any times you might have been somehow saved from danger, or something bad happening to someone who you’re mad at?”  
He nodded his head in confirmation. Just yesterday he used a spell to blast away a snake that crept up behind him.  
“Tommy, that’s magic. It runs in bloodlines-wizards pass it down to their children. Sometimes a wizard might marry someone without magic, and that magic might resurface in a child, generations later. One of your grandparents, or great-grandparents, might have been a wizard. And you are, too.”  
Tommy found it very hard to fake interest. But she was being patient, and sweet, and she sorta reminded him of GrandmaInnit. So he nodded, and tried to look confused.  
“People without magic are called muggles. Your mom and dad are muggles. I’m a witch, here to help explain it to them.”  
He missed GrandmaInnit. And Mother and FatherInnit.  
“Hogwarts is the best school of Wizardry in the country. In my opinion, the best in the world. You go there to learn how to control your magic, to make it work for you. I’ll be one of your teachers-Professor McGonagall.” She offered her hand, a comforting look in her eyes. Tommy didn’t need comfort, but he appreciated the sentiment. He shook her hand.  
“Tommy! We’re home!” 

This conversation was going to be fun.

**Author's Note:**

> Please give me feedback! Positive, Negative, or anywhere in between! Heck, even if it's just the word "Pogchamp" it's helpful! I just want peoples thoughts.


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